


Found

by silvertrails



Series: Second Age Arc [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 04:06:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18161258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvertrails/pseuds/silvertrails
Summary: Elrond and Maglor speak for the last time at the beginning of the Second Age.





	Found

**Found  
By CC   
March, 2019**

This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit is made and no harm is intended. I follow HoME12, so Gil-galad is Orodreth's son.

This was written for the B2MeM 2019, Card: Botany, Numbers: G57 (Ivy), N44 (Hypericum); Card: Deep Thoughts, Number B12 (Cosmos)

* * *

Elrond had left Gil-galad’s castle early in search of a few herbs. He had gathered poppy, hypericum, athelas, and sage, and he had spent a great deal of time looking at the remains of a wall covered in ivy. He was going to learn the healing arts, and part of his training was to collect his own herbs. He was curious about hypericum and its effects of those with soul sickness. He also knew that touching ivy was not a good idea.

He looked up, knowing that the stars were fading with Arien’s sun, but that his father, Eärendil might still be there somewhere, part of what Men called the cosmos. It was his other father that Elrond would like to see, though, and he felt guilty of loving Maglor so much. He had barely known Eärendil, for his real father had been traveling most of the time, and his mother had sacrificed her life to save that accursed jewel. 

So had Maedhros, after the Silmaril burnt his hand…

What had happened to Maglor, though?

Elrond wished he dared to leave Lindon and travel around the land, looking for his adoptive father. There were those who said that Maglor had died at sea, as Maedhros did in the fire, but Elrond didn’t want to believe it. Maglor was alive, somewhere, and if Elrond were a better son he would be looking for him and not learning how to be a healer.

“Elrond…”

The voice was unmistakable, and when Elrond turned around he saw Maglor wrapped in a cloak, his face hidden, his hands heavily bandaged. Elrond rushed to his side and embraced him, realizing how thin Maglor was, his skin warmer than it should be. Was he running a fever?

“Father, I thought I would never see you again. Are you ill?”

“Elves do not fall sick, Elrond.” Maglor let the hood of his cloak fall back, and the dull pan in his eyes made Elrond’s heart ache. 

“Then you are the first one,” Elrond said, reaching for his pouch. “Sit there. I will brew you a tea. I have athelas, and a pinch of poppy will help with the pain---”

“There is no need, my son,” Maglor said. “I’m just tired, and yes, I am in pain, but I need to leave before Gil-galad’s people find me. I have no wish to be captured by them.”

“They would not dare!”

Maglor smiled, but his eyes were sad. “It would hurt you to see me in the dungeons, my son. Let me go. I will take the tea, if you insist, but then I will leave and travel alone.”

Elrond nodded, and sat down. “I will be fast,” he said, and quickly prepared the tea with a small kettle he always brought with him to test any new herb he found. Maglor provided two cups which Elrond recognized, and they drank the tea in silence remembering Maedhros. When they were done, Elrond gave Maglor part of the mint leaves he had used for his own tea, and part of the medicinal herbs he had gathered. 

“What will your teacher say?” Maglor asked softly. 

“I will gather more and return to the castle.”

“I’m glad you found a home with Rodnor and Gildor.”

“My home was with Elros, with you and…”

Maglor brushed a tear off Elrond’s cheek. “I know, and he loved you too. He is in the Halls now, and we ca only hope that his spirit heals.”

“And what about you, Father?”

Maglor embraced Elrond tightly, and then let him go. “Time will say, my son. Stay safe.”

“You too…”

Elrond didn’t move until Maglor was out of sight. With him the last member of his home was gone. He barely remembered the life with his parents, and Lindon was not yet a home. He looked up again. Eärendil was not there. Nor was Maglor. 

He was alone.


End file.
